


Was it something that he said, or the voices in your head?

by MediumAquaMarinePresence



Series: In this house we don't fridge women [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brief mention of sex work, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 03:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21190709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediumAquaMarinePresence/pseuds/MediumAquaMarinePresence
Summary: When Five turned back the Day That Wasn't, he changed more than a small 24 hour window: he changed the Commission's entire strategy.





	Was it something that he said, or the voices in your head?

**Author's Note:**

> For my next trick I will resurrect Dave and bury the bury your gays trope. I usually don't care for OCs but there needed to be some ghosties in the story to flesh out Klaus's powers. Hills I will die on:  
\- Klaus and Ben bond over media  
\- Dave calls Klaus "kitten" and I will actually face death than change my position on this one

Gunfire in the mansion, nothing new. Klaus was a light sleeper, he had awoken when the house was first broken into, and had he not he might have died. But might haves don’t make for great shields, so he dismissed the near death experience as bullets rained down and he crouched behind the couch. Maybe he should stop sleeping in the great room, stop being the first point of contact for these stupid assassins. 

Maybe he should stop sleeping. 

“One day,” he said to his entourage, palms pressed firmly over his ears, “people are going to stop shooting at me.” He didn’t get a lot of sympathy from the entourage, because they were all dead and the dead were difficult to wring sympathy from. 

“We should do something about the gunfire,” Ben said helpfully. Klaus agreed. The rest of the entourage were… probably on board. Klaus was working on his powers, he’d learned his new limits and worked on pushing them, achieving things. Certain ghosts he could keep around without thinking about it, others he had to pull from the afterlife like one might drag a child to see the dentist. Still more were kept around without his permission. Unlike most of his life, however, he had learned how to get _ rid _ of ghosts. If random gurgling creeps wanted to scream in his ears, he had learned how to banish them. It wasn’t permanent, they didn’t make it to the afterlife, but they did give him some peace and quiet for at least two or three days. The entourage was composed of the ghosts that surrounded him without being conjured, ghosts with personalities and forms and most importantly, ghosts he could easily manifest. 

Unfortunately for the Umbrella Academy Mark Two, they weren’t the best ghosts. 

First of all Zoya Popova had found her way to him. As a ghost the rule went Klaus could understand her, and she could understand him, but none of the other ghosts could understand her. Most of what she did was cook him the dishes she had enjoyed cooking when she was alive, tell him how skinny he was, reminisce about her large family, and shoo the rude ghosts away with a broom. At least she knew how to wield a frying pan. 

The next ghost was less useful than Zoya. As far as Klaus could tell the man hadn’t been tortured and murdered specifically by his brother, but he did follow Five around a lot. And thanks to all that torture the freak had no hands, just bloody stumps, his tongue had been cut out and little jets of blood spurted out every time he tried to talk, and his eyeballs had been pulled out, but not all the way so they swung against his stupid face every time he moved. Klaus called him Eyeballs, and while he was gross, he was still pretty good company. He had a sense of humor. But that didn’t stop bullets. 

Issadora had only ever accomplished shadows of her dreams while alive, never quite getting the leading role in any of the operas she played in, and was so desperate for attention and fame she and Klaus had almost instantly become friends despite having over a century between them. She entertained Klaus with rambunctious stories of her early 20th century lesbian exploits, the grand balls she had attended, and she could sing a mean Habanera. Klaus adored her, but by the time she joined the group his siblings were growing increasingly impatient with his powers. 

“The others probably heard by now,” Klaus reasoned. “Any second they’ll come barreling down the stairs…” Klaus licked his lips and looked around at his team. They looked back at him. Eyeballs would, if he could. Sometimes he would nudge his eyes with his arm stumps to tilt them at Klaus, a truly grotesque thing that never failed to make Klaus giggle. “I need you to cover for me while I get to them.” 

“But of course!” Issadora assured him, putting on a brave face. Zoya agreed as well, hefting her frying pan. 

“Ben, you’re with me. The rest of you, see if you can’t distract and or horribly maim the freaks shooting at me,” Klaus told them. “Go team!” He felt a little guilty they always sent Zoya out first, but there was something about a grandmother materializing from nowhere and scolding you in Russian that really took people off guard. Klaus only stayed long enough to ensure the gunfire had really stopped before he and Ben made a break for the stairs. 

The rest of the Hargreeves family had assembled at the top of the stairs, having been brought out of their rooms by the racket. Bent over and panting, Klaus gestured around vaguely, trying to catch his breath. 

“Gunfire,” he said helpfully. 

“How many?” Five asked, stepping up to Klaus and peering around him at the empty stairwell. Klaus righted himself and looked at Ben. Ben shrugged. 

“No clue,” Klaus admitted. “Definitely a few.” Five looked back at Luther, who had taken to his new role as Number One But For Five rather well. 

“We need a plan,” Diego spat, who had not taken to his role as Wannabe Number One But For Five. “We need to get Vanya somewhere safe, if she loses control of her powers she could do more harm than good.” Vanya glared at him. 

“For your information,” she began, “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” 

“Guys, not the time,” Allison cut in, firm but gentle. “Where are they now? I don’t hear any gunfire.” 

“Friends are handling it,” Klaus told them. A barrage of questions came his way, but Five shushed Diego and Luther and Allison. 

“Split up,” Five decided at last. “Ben and Klaus cover the rear exit, Diego and Luther sweep the second floor. Allison and I will cover the front door. And Vanya, try to stay out of the way.” 

“That’s not really fair,” Ben muttered. 

“What, that it’s just you and me or that Vanya’s getting shafted?” Klaus asked. Ben rolled his eyes. No one was listening to him, though, or Ben, because Vanya was protesting and demanding to be taken seriously. And if that wasn’t the crux of it all, Klaus thought stroppily. 

“It’s too risky,” Five finally snapped. “Vanya, I’m serious. Your training isn’t complete.” 

“And how come Klaus gets to do something, then?” 

“Focus!” Diego hissed. “Armed people in the fucking house, do I need to remind you?” 

“Move out.” Klaus could take an order when he heard it, and he and Ben readily bounded down the stairs. Ben went first, in ghost form so he could give the all clear. For some reason they had yet to figure out, Ben could tap into Klaus’s powers and pull himself into corporeality. It never lasted long, but came in handy when Klaus froze up. That happened, he hated his dumb lizard brain decided the best way out of danger was to do absolutely nothing, but he could manage. 

They could manage. 

Ben called back a warning and Klaus threw himself to the wall, listening to his own ragged breathing and thrumming heartbeat and the sounds of Ben and the Horror taking down a lone operative. When it was finished Klaus slunk over to the body and pulled the rifle from it. Not dissimilar to the one he’d used in Vietnam, it would do. “Keep an eye out,” he whispered to Ben, as he pulled the body out of the center of the hallway and off to the side. Ben indicated they had a moment, no one was coming for them, so he removed the man’s helmet and closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry,” he murmured. There really wasn’t much else to say, if a ghost was watching hopefully he wouldn’t hold a grudge. 

Klaus shouldered the rifle and he and Ben continued on. Briefly he was relieved he hadn’t been able to locate Dave’s ghost yet. His precious soldier boy hadn’t been much of a soldier, he could point the gun but more often than not the trigger never quite got pulled. Dave wasn’t supposed to be a soldier, though. He was a poet, he played the cello, he baked, he wanted to live with Klaus in a cabin in the countryside despite the fact he had to take spiders outside rather than squish them. Once Klaus knew which way to point the gun and which button did the killing, he’d been ok at it. Dave had been deeply concerned about his eternal soul. Klaus, not so much. 

Ben and Klaus made their way through the dark halls to the back of the house. The ghost crew hadn’t returned, but they didn’t meet any of the other intruders. Once the rear exit to the house was covered, Klaus did a sweep of the surrounding area. Where his ghosts had gone he had no clue. Generally he got the impression Eyeballs would make a good leader, but the ghost couldn’t speak or communicate, and the best he could do was bleed significantly on people when corporeal. So it was probably darling Issadora rallying the troops. 

Crouched at the back of the house reminded Klaus of being on missions. Always the lookout. Sometimes a ghost could be persuaded to do it for him, more often than not he was likely to miss danger because of them. He’d taken plenty of bullets in his time at the Academy, and contrary to what his siblings believed it mostly happened sober, when he couldn’t ignore the ghosts and was left alone. Oh sure, let the guy who hallucinates keep watch, he’ll be fine. 

And he was fine. 

Waiting and listening, waiting and listening. Just like in Nam, waiting for ambush, waiting for mines, waiting for bombs, waiting for snipers. That was probably one of the more difficult parts of war, the waiting. He’d never been one to sit still. He’d never been content with the sounds of his own breathing and heartbeat for company, with nothing but his naked mind as his only companion. The ghosts in ‘Nam had been pretty helpful, at least, more helpful than the ones on Academy missions and they’d helped him look out for snipers. 

At the Academy in 2019 there weren’t snipers, but there was gunfire and shouting from somewhere in the bowels of the house. It echoed, Klaus knew that, it made it bigger and scarier than it was. 

“Wanna stay here while I go see if the others need help?” Klaus asked. 

“Bad idea.” 

“That’s not a no.” 

“I should go with you,” Ben told him. “What if they shoot at you?” What indeed? Klaus gave his brother a shrug. That wasn’t a big priority for him. 

“Stay here. I’ll get the ghost squad to come in for backup,” he said, shouldering his gun and starting off. What Ben would be able to do as a lone guard was unclear, but Klaus wasn’t going to wait around for his siblings to be shot at. From the back of the house he slunk around the west side of the building, hugging the wall and stopping at regular intervals to listen for attack. None came. 

There was shouting from one of the lounges, a smoking room off the main downstairs library. Vanya’s distinct voice was among it all. Heart hammering in his chest, Klaus rounded the corner and raised his gun, prepared for resistance. 

Four of the intruders had Vanya. Two stood closer to the doorway, one on either side, guns raised instantly and trained on Klaus. One of the remaining two intruders held Vanya’s arms behind her back, the other had their gun out but not ready. 

“Target acquired.” All at once the two guards by the doorway had their guns trained on Klaus. The leader of the group, or at least, the one without much of a task lifted his gun and pointed it at Vanya’s head. 

“Klaus, I’m sorry,” was all she got out before the leader was clapping a hand over her mouth. 

“Drop your weapon.” He sounded fairly serious, and considering the Commission was not above putting bullets in plenty of people more innocent than Vanya, Klaus slowly lowered the gun to the ground, hands raised. 

“We can talk about this,” he said slowly. “Let her go, and you can take me instead.” The panic and fear in Vanya’s eyes twisted in his cheat, but he couldn’t give in to it. He had to get her out. There was a pregnant pause after Klaus’s offer. With a jerk of his head he gave the order to restrain Klaus and kick his gun away, which the two intruders by the doorway happily complied with. To Klaus’s surprise they released Vanya, who stumbled towards him. 

“They drugged me,” she gasped, hunched over as she lurched toward him. It gave Klaus a moment to worry about her before he felt a pinch in his arm and looked down to see one of his captors had jabbed a needle into him. 

“Well shit,” he heard himself mutter. The world was growing just a touch fuzzy around the edges. Words slurred out of his mouth as he staggered, held up by the armed intruders. Ben, or at least what he thought might be Ben, appeared in the doorway. Klaus managed to unloop Dave’s dog tags from his neck and drop them in Ben’s direction, for safekeeping, before he at last collapsed. The last thing he heard was Vanya screaming, which was a weird thing to do when the world was to floaty and painless. 

* * *

Usually when Klaus clawed his way back to consciousness with a pounding headache and a tongue three sizes too large for his dry mouth, he didn’t do it in bed. He usually did it in alleys or bathtubs or on park benches. This time he groaned and shuddered into something resembling consciousness in a pristine white bed. Klaus rolled himself onto his front and stared down at the white pillowcase. He didn’t know anyone who had white sheets. Hell, he’d never known anyone who had white sheets. Except hospitals. Hospital was a good first bet. 

Keeping his eyes open was a bit of a struggle so he let them slide closed and tried to take stock of the rest of his situation. From what he could remember, he’d gone to sleep on the couch in leather pants and a silk bathrobe, which were both still present. No dog tags, but he had only a moment of confusion before recalling the circumstances under which he’d relinquished them. 

Hospital was still possible, but it was becoming less and less likely. 

There were no noises from outside the room that he could hear, no sounds of machines in his room. In all of his years in and out of hospitals, there was usually noise to accompany it. More often than not there was an overworked nurse sick of his shit ready to get him the fuck out. 

No nurses.

No squeaking shoes in a hall far too close to the door. 

Silence. 

Klaus had next to no idea what silence sounded like. It was either ghosts or drugs, and while the drugs did a good job of numbing the world, it wasn’t as if he was ever any place private. The benches he slept on, the rehabs and shelters, the crack houses he holed up in, none of it had ever afforded much privacy, much less silence. And always there was Ben. 

The realization that Ben hadn’t said anything yet jolted Klaus’s eyes open with a gasp and he flopped to his side to survey the room. White walls. White floor. A heavy looking glass paned door at the far end, facing his bed. Beyond that what was likely an empty, white hallway. 

No Ben. 

“Ben?” he asked to thin air. He had always promised himself he wouldn’t be the sort of person to talk to thin air, at least not when he could know better. Sure drugs had wrested some of that from him, but the Vietnam flashbacks had cleaned up the rest. “Benny?” Nothing. Since Ben’s death there had only been one time in Klaus’s life he’d been without his brother, and that had been Vietnam, which likely meant he’d experienced time travel. “Fucking shit,” he spat, falling back face down on the bed. Time travel. Fuck that. Ten months without Ben had been pretty brutal, and all things considered he was still recovering from it. 

To be fair, this was substantially better than his last kidnapping, and while it didn’t have Dave, it was shaping up to be better than Vietnam. He’d been time-napped, he was either here for information or ransom. Or bait, maybe. Either way, he had use. And use was leverage, that much he’d learned in the streets and using it was an art that had served him well all his life. Artful application of leverage. 

The door opened and he heard a pair of high heeled feet carry someone in. The door closed. He looked up. While a little overdone, her outfit was certainly fashionable and tasteful, from the tip of her black cloche hat to the pointed, patent leather toes of her pumps. 

“Do you have any aspirin?” he asked. Bright red with her pale complexion was a bold lip color choice, but as her mouth pulled back in a humorless smile he could appreciate it. Bold was certainly the name of the game here. 

“Unfortunately not,” she drawled. “While potent, our… elixir will wear off quickly.” Elixir, right. He’d been drugged. So had Vanya. There was a chance she’d been taken captive with him, that thought made him swallow hard. “No need to worry, it has no long lasting effects.” 

“Phew,” was all Klaus could say at the moment, with a breathy chuckle. Veiled reference to his struggle with addiction or acknowledgement of his nervousness, either way this woman was observant and she was letting him know. So might as well give her something to _ observe_. “Hey, um, in 1982, actually, now this is a fun fact. I don’t know if they tell you about this in time travel school,” he blabbered as he slowly lifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “But in 1982 music reached its absolute height. This woman, Laura Branigan, and oh my god actually come to think of it fashion was going some interesting places as well.” The woman opened her mouth and Klaus flapped a hand at her as he cut her off. “But back to what I was saying! Anyway, Laura Branigan, right. In 1982 she sang this fantastic little number called Gloria. Now what I’m wondering,” he got louder on the last sentence, he could hedge out a conversation like he could breathe, “is if you’ve ever heard it.” He received a polite smile, the same she’d given him before. 

“I have,” she replied. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well,” he began theatrically, twirling a hand in the air. “It’s been running through my head for the past _ three days_. Over and over, couldn’t get it out to save my life. Absolute earworm, let me tell you.” He paused just long enough for her to begin to open her mouth before he pressed on. “But that thing you gave me, whatever it was, well, poof! No more Gloria!” 

“I’m glad it could have some positive effects.” 

“Yeah, no shit. But hey!” he beamed up at her. “Hey, you could really market that, don’t you think?” In the air before him he spread his hands, like tracing out a banner. “Got a song you can’t get rid of? Try our new patented sleepy time injection today!” While her face gave nothing away, he knew he’d possibly stepped on a couple nerves. It was second nature now, growing up with siblings really did that. He could annoy just about anybody. 

“Riveting,” she said, and oh yeah, she was _ definitely _ annoyed. “But moving on, would you like to know what you’re doing here?” Bait, and obvious bait at that. Still, couldn’t hurt to play dumb. Take the easy stuff, let her think she had him. 

“Sure,” he yawned. “Sure, sure. What am I doing here?” 

“Let me show you.” Klaus looked down at his bare feet then up at the woman. 

“I hope it isn’t far,” he told her skeptically. Impatiently the woman shifted from foot to foot. 

“I assure you, it’ll be worth your time,” she told him, and that was a weird thing to say to a hostage. So Klaus pulled himself to his feet with a put upon sigh and swayed as much as he believably could. Years of drug abuse had likely strengthened his system against whatever they put in him, but still better to have them believing they’d dosed him good. The woman waited until he was upright and focused on her before she held out her hand. “I’m the Handler.” Klaus shook her hand, emphatically because why the fuck not. 

“Klaus,” he said. “You probably already knew that.” 

“There’s a lot we already know.” 

“Ooh, there’s a we, is there?” he waggled his eyebrows. “Well then. Lead on!” As he suspected outside his room was a white hallway, fluorescent lighting and shiny floors and absolutely no life. At the end of the hallway was a door, and it lead out of the building and onto what appeared to be the set of Downton Abbey. “I never liked that classist garbage,” Klaus couldn’t help but mutter, casting a furtive glance around for Ben. 

Ben wasn’t there. Right. 

“The Commission headquarters,” the Handler told him proudly. There was a gravel drive and drab green lawn, with an imposing brick building at the center, all of it looking like it came straight from the English countryside about a hundred years ago. 

Maybe it had? 

“Fascinating,” he muttered. The gravel on the ground was digging into the bottoms of his feet, but that was something he could deal with. He’d been in worse situations without shoes. People in pencil skirts and suits flitted back and forth, moving with purpose. For a minute or two they stood and watched the people come and go, many of them with familiar leather briefcases. Was this what work looked like for Five? Had he been one of those suited men, head down, marching toward his next target? God it seemed awful, but better than what Klaus had been picturing. 

“Shall we?” 

“Indeed we shall.” Klaus followed the woman toward the main entrance of the building. Once inside they found themselves in one of those marble great rooms, open to the top floor. Shiny expensive floors had always been Klaus’s downfall, not good for heels, especially if you were a little tipsy. 

“From here the top brass are able to function and distribute orders to the lesser workers,” she explained, and while it was a refreshingly honest take on corporate culture, it did not bode well for workplace morale. They made their way up the marble staircase, Klaus’s feet leaving sweaty footprints all the way. He ran a hand along the bannister and looked around, taking it all in. “You’ve been acquainted with what some of our field agents are like. They don’t really have the… how shall I put this? Strategy for this. This is where the planning happens. The big picture.” They reached the top of the stairs and continued down a hallway. On either side were open doors to offices, where about twenty people per office sat over typewriters. No one looked up as they passed. 

“I’ve always been curious about that,” he admitted. “I mean, whose idea was it that killing was the easiest way to keep the timeline together?” 

“I’m not sure I follow,” the Handler told him indulgently as they came to stand outside one of the offices. Klaus peered in and tried to catch anyone’s eye. 

“Like sure, maybe it’s quicker, but come on, half the stuff you want to accomplish you could do with sex and drugs,” he said, not really thinking about it. “Say you gotta get the Titanic to sink, right? I’m sure you made that happen by like, assassinating the person who was going to be a better lookout than the one they had to hire. But couldn’t one of you just bop your little butt to the Titanic, seduce the captain when he was supposed to be on iceberg watch, then whoop dee doo you got yourselves one sunk ship. And hey, maybe an orgasm, if you play your cards right.” While no one looked up, one woman with the tightest bun he’d ever seen let out a snort. So they weren’t all humorless drones. 

“An interesting thought,” the Handler said slowly. “But you do bring up a fair point.” Klaus giggled, because that was almost always the dumbest thing people said in their lives. His ideas were the intellectual nadir of everyone else’s. Rock bottom was agreeing with him. “The Commission does need to… revamp our strategy. Things have become costly, cumbersome. We think you could be the spark we need to streamline our processes.” 

“Moi?” Klaus asked, eyes wide, hand over his heart. “I spilled milk the other day and straight up started sobbing. Are you sure?” Not necessarily true, but true enough to get his point across. The Handler smiled. 

“Your skills have come to our attention,” she told him, leading on down the hall. Klaus wanted to vomit. Reginald Hargreeves hadn’t died, he’d just been reincarnated into a cold blond woman. With better fashion sense. 

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he told her. “And while I appreciate the interest-” 

“We of course wouldn’t expect you to utilize your talents without… proper compensation,” the Handler continued. “I know if I tell you now what we’d like from you, you wouldn’t listen to a word I said. So would you like to see what we have to offer?” It was stupid, but Klaus was sort of expecting drugs when they came to the closed door at the end of the hall. While it would be counter intuitive to their purpose, if they really planned on using his powers, he couldn’t help it. Outside of drugs his life really had very little leverage. 

He wasn’t expecting Dave. 

Never had he ever been expecting Dave. In the disco when Dave’s hand had come up to cup his neck, then his cheek, with more tenderness and care than Klaus had ever had in his life, he hadn’t been expecting it. He hadn’t expected the quiet words and soft hands and gentle smiles and adoration but he’d got it. 

But more specifically, he wasn’t expecting Dave to be standing at the center of an empty office, looking just a little concerned and out of place, dressed in his boring old khakis and a blue button down. 

Like he’d been dressed the first time he’d told Klaus he loved him. 

“Hi,” Dave said, nervously raising a hand to wave at Klaus. Reflexively Klaus waved back. 

“Hi,” he returned, though it came out more as a whimper than anything. 

“It’s, uh, a nice night, for an evening,” Dave said, because he was an awkward bastard who excelled at making Klaus cry. He was so beautiful, standing there, looking like he wanted nothing more than to run into Klaus’s arms, kiss away his tears and hold him. He was exactly as Klaus remembered. 

Only, he wasn’t Dave. 

Klaus was absolutely, 100% sure Dave had died. In his life he was sure of very few things, he was unsure of the day, the time, if he was alive, where he was, what he was doing, if he’d eaten or not, the last time he’d slept. But that. That he was sure of. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Dave’s corpse, he saw the light fading from his eyes right there in Klaus’s arms. No doubt, Dave was dead. Dave was dead in 1968 and so this was not Dave. 

“You did a really good job,” he told the Handler as he dabbed tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Looks just like him and everything.” 

“I’m sorry?” Klaus pointed at the Not Dave. 

“That’s not Dave,” he explained. “It can’t be. Dave’s dead. Saw it happen and everything.” Klaus shook his head. “Not Dave.” That seemed to throw her for a loop, the Handler put a hand on her hip and studied him for a long moment. 

“A lot of things are possible, with our resources,” she tried, but Klaus just shook his head. 

“I know dead, ok? That’s kind of my thing. And Dave, well. David Alexander Katz died.” 

“Perhaps there’s some way I could convince you,” the Handler offered. Klaus stroked his chin, looking contemplatively at Not Dave. 

“Let me ask him something,” he decided eventually, “something only we would know.” The Not Dave looked a little more concerned, but the Handler waved a hand, obviously not interested in controlling what happened. Klaus stepped closer to Not Dave, arms wrapped around his middle. Ben was able to pull himself into the land of the living, it was possible the ghost of Dave was able to do so. Maybe they’d tricked him, said he could see Klaus, because Dave would never willingly work against him. As far as Klaus could tell his powers were working at full tilt, recovered nearly completely from the drug, so he closed his eyes and concentrated and pushed. Any ghost would be banished with a move like that. 

When he opened his eyes Not Dave was still there, looking anxious and expectant. At his sides his hands twitched, a clear sign he wanted to reach out. Klaus would be fucked if he let that happen, his fragile brain could only take so much before he was offering the Handler anything she wanted. 

“What, um, what was the first thing you said to me?” he finally asked. “Whisper your answer in my ear. So only we can hear it.” Not Dave licked his lips and leaned in, careful to keep them from touching. Always a gentleman. 

“Kitten you’re in danger,” he whispered, so soft Klaus had to strain to hear it. “You have to get out of here.” If that wasn’t the most Dave thing then he didn’t know what was. Sure it wasn’t true, the first thing Dave had said to him was “so you just get in country?” but that wasn’t the point. The point was to give an answer only Dave would give. 

For the moment, at least, as far as the Handler could be concerned, he was convinced. 

“What was it you needed me to do?” he asked, turning back around to face the Handler. She beamed. 

“I’m so glad to have your attention.” 

* * *

Ben had the delightful duty of watching two adjacent and equally miserable rescue missions get planned. To his right stood the Ghost Crew, led by the boisterous Issadora. On his left, the remaining members of his family, led by no one and staffed by everyone who thought they ought to lead. Not for the first time since meeting Issadora was Ben struck by the familiarity, like he had known her or someone like her at some point, as she did her best to rally the ghosts. 

“So of course we’re all in agreement we need to get Klaus back,” she was saying, gesturing around as the others listened intently. “It may take some hard work, but he’s important. We mustn’t stop at anything to ensure his safety.” Eyeballs agreed, if his blood choked gurgling was any indication. “The only problem is I’m… not quite sure how,” she ended, a little flat. Everything about Issadora was campy and overdone, from her Victorian dress with its puffy sleeves to her towering hat to the overacted way she said anything. She was a little like Klaus, who adored camp, but there was another quality he just couldn’t put his finger on. 

Zoya said something emphatic and Russian. Issadora sighed. “Yes, well, that’s just riveting,” she muttered. “No one can understand you, Zoya. Not without Klaus. God what a mess we are without him!” They were a mess with him, but Ben didn’t say it. They were trying, and getting a hell of a lot further than the living team of would-be rescuers. 

“How did you let him get kidnapped again?” Diego demanded of Vanya, who was seated and sweating off the effects of the power suppressing drugs on the couch. 

“Diego!” Allison cried, glaring at him. “It’s not like it was _ her _ fault.” 

“Oh yeah?” Diego jabbed a knife in Vanya’s direction. “She was supposed to stay out of the way. If she hadn’t gotten mixed up in this-” 

“Mixed up in this?” Luther interrupted. “You mean when armed intruders broke into our _ home_?” 

“Guys, don’t fight,” Vanya pleaded quietly from the couch. 

“If everyone could just shut up for a minute,” Five grumbled. “We need to focus. What information do we have?” Diego was about to argue or answer, though there was rarely one without the other with him, when Luther and Allison looked pointedly at Vanya. Even the ghosts were listening. Well. Ben and Issadora were. Zoya had begun to wander off, not understanding anything being said was definitely not holding her attention, and Eyeballs had a hard time participating in these sorts of things, on account of the disfiguring torture. 

“They said they wanted him,” Vanya said slowly. “They were talking about him being the target of the raid. And they had this sedative, the one they gave me, they apparently think it can mitigate his powers.” That wasn’t good, Ben exchanged a nervous glance with Issadora. If Klaus didn’t have his powers, he couldn’t conjure the team to come save him. Vanya looked down at her hands, swallowing, staring at the dog tags that had been passed to her. Klaus had been trying to give them to Ben, but Ben hadn’t been corporeal. 

Klaus did that, more times than Ben wanted to think about. In a delirious moment of pain and fear, he would call out to him, reach out, beg him for help. Ben hated it. He hated that Klaus got into shitty situations, like getting stabbed over drugs, and hated more that he couldn’t do anything substantial to help him. Klaus knew that. Klaus apologized for putting Ben in that position. But when his brain was frying and he was overcome with terror, he always reached out to Ben. It should be Ben holding on to Dave’s dog tags, until he could give them back to Klaus,but no Klaus meant no physical reality, so they went to Vanya. 

“They’re probably going to use him to get to me,” Five decided. “It’s Cha-cha and Hazel all over again. Damnit.” 

“Well where’d they take him?” Diego asked. Issadora pulled the ghosts together for another huddled meeting. 

“So he’s been kidnapped,” she decided. “But I think I know where they took him. Ben’s still here, which means time travel must be involved. I recall Five speaking about some sort of place out of time where he was taken by the Commission.” 

“We can’t do anything if he was taken there,” Ben said, feeling mounting panic in his throat. “He couldn’t conjure me last time he time traveled. He won’t be able to conjure any of us.” Issadora fixed him with a determined look. 

“We must be prepared for if he is able to,” she decided. “But I do believe the, uh, siblings have a better chance at rescue. Our team… may need some improvement. What we should focus on is letting them know you’re still here, that way they can know where Klaus is.” A terrible idea. Without Klaus, all ghosts were pretty much useless. Sometimes they could get a cat to look at them, but Ben suspected that was more on cats than ghosts. 

“I don’t think it’ll work,” he said with a dubious look at his arguing family. 

“We _ must _ try,” Issadora told him, reaching out to grasp at his hand only for her to pass right through him. “For Klaus.” Ben gave her a long, hard look, narrowing his eyes and concentrating. There was something just so… 

“Tahani!” he gasped, looking around with wide eyes. “Klaus she’s totally a Victorian version of- oh. Right.” Ben shoved his hands in his pockets. No Klaus. 

* * *

The only comfort Klaus took in being in a small, sound proofed, poorly lit basement room with ten corpses was that the Commission obviously knew jack shit about his powers. All he really needed was a thought to conjure a specific ghost, just being in a room with Cha-cha and Hazel had been ample enough to go on to call dozens of their victims. But the Commission was one of those over the top, spared no expense places, so there he was with the literal corpses of his targets, each laid out on their backs on their own gurneys in neat little rows of five.

Their ghosts were there, too, but the Commission didn’t need to know that just yet. 

The Handler had supplied Klaus with a cup of hot chocolate and a bag of gummy worms, rather indulgently as they both knew his powers didn’t require it. Just outside the heavy door of this dark basement room she stood with Possibly Dave. Inside, Klaus stood with ten corpses and ten ghosts. 

“We should introduce ourselves,” he said at last. The ghosts stared at him. “So let’s, uh, let’s go around and say our names, our pronouns, and what ice cream flavor best describes our personality. Would anyone like to start?” Getting no response from ghosts was normal, as normal as getting no response from the living for his antics. “You probably know all about what they want me to do,” he chatted, because someone had to. “They’ve got this just _ crazy _ idea that an unstoppable army of ghosts to do their bidding will make things run smoother. And I was thinking, well, gee, didn’t they try that in that movie? The nerd one. Lord of the Rings? Anyone? My brothers are ob_sessed _, it’s a little embarrassing.” Klaus cupped his hot chocolate between his palms and sipped it. They’d even given him whipped cream, but he’d long since slurped that up. “So. Ghost army.” 

“We know what they want,” one of the ghosts spat. The rest glared at Klaus. 

“So we’re on the same page.” 

“Who’s the guy?” another ghost asked. “I mean, I kind of know who he is. There was a briefing about his rescue.” Klaus perked up. 

“Oh? Care to share?” 

“They fished him out of 1968,” another ghost added. “Close to death, they’d got him off a battlefield in Vietnam and fixed him up.” 

“Now that certainly is interesting,” Klaus murmured, a smile curling his lips. 

“But who is he? What’s his purpose?” the first ghost pressed. “Is he some kind of leverage on you?” Klaus shrugged, looking down into his cup. 

“I guess,” he admitted. “He… uh, we…” Fuck it. The dead were good listeners, weren’t they? At least they had no one to tell. “He’s the absolute love of my life,” he explained, raising his eyes. “His name is Dave and he’s the most incredible person I’ve ever known. We were madly in love, like two big idiots.” 

“Were?” 

“Yeah. He um, he kinda died? At least, I was reasonably sure he’d kinda died,” Klaus explained. “Most relationships are pretty “until death do we part”, but that’s never quite meant the same thing to me as it does to other folks.” 

“Well!” the ghost seethed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m just so glad to hear we were killed so you could get your boyfriend.” 

“You died rescuing him?” Klaus asked, heart clenching. “I never asked for that! I- I thought he was dead.” A significant look was exchanged between the ghosts. 

“We died,” the ghost said slowly, “so you could bring us back.” A wave of nausea washed over Klaus as he dropped his hot chocolate. 

“Jesus,” he hissed, both at the predicament and the sticky mess all over the floor. “They killed you, on the off chance I could bring you back and you could be some sort of- sort of- sort of ghost strike team?” Silence. “Christ on a cracker.” He’d kind of known the Commission was Evil, what with the kidnap, torture, and murder all over the place, but this was something else. These were their own people. “Hey, so, um, why do they think you’ll do what they want? Pretty sure your contracts end with death.” 

“They seem to think you can control the dead.” Klaus snorted. 

“Do I look like the sort of person who can control anything?” he laughed. “I can hardly control my own sobriety, what makes them think I can just, what, order a bunch of ghosts around for mindless killing?” More silence. “This is nuts. I can’t do any of that.” 

“You can’t resurrect us?” Klaus shook his head. 

“No, not at all! Jesus! Dead is dead, ok? Best I can do is make you corporeal again for a little bit.” 

“And how is that not resurrection?” Klaus reached into the pocket of his silk robe. Usually he’d expect a cigarette for this sort of stress, but all he had was the bag of gummy worms he’d been gifted by the time fascists. 

“It’s not the same as being alive,” he told them as he popped the bag open. “Anyone want one?” 

“So we can eat?” Klaus blinked as he held out the bag. 

“Yeah. You can eat, sing, fuck, whatever you want. If I make it happen. But-” 

“So we can only do things you want us to,” the ghost elaborated, ignoring the bag of candy. Klaus shrugged and took one for himself before putting it back in his pocket. 

“I guess,” he said slowly. “It’s more, like, I give you a little bridge to the world of the living. What you do with your corporeality is your business.” 

“Sort of like God.” Klaus shuddered. 

“Don’t compare me to that bitch,” he muttered. Silence descended on them, as the ghosts all looked at one another. Their bodies all wore the same uniform, every one of them killed by a single execution style bullet to the back of the head. Maybe they’d been a cohesive unit in life. Those things didn’t tend to last in the afterlife, but hey, maybe it was nice being a ghost and knowing someone. 

“So what do we get, if we help you?” the leader ghost asked cautiously. She was of middle height, brown hair to her shoulders, still wearing her uniform, even in death. Almost nothing set her apart from anyone you might see on the street. 

“Help me?” 

“Yes. Help you. Help you bust out of here with the love of your life, get you two back to where you belong.” Klaus blinked. 

“A party sub. From Subway,” he answered eventually. “And probably sweet sweet vengeance on those who wronged you.” 

“What’s a party sub?” 

“It’s like a really long sandwich. For parties. Everyone can take a slice, it’s… kind of gross, cause I’ve only had them at like exactly room temperature, but there’s a lot of you so I think it would work out best.” 

“Ghost huddle.” Klaus stepped back, leaning against the wall behind him so the ghosts could all form up and have a little conversation. He chewed a gummy worm and mulled over his situation. While killing a ton of innocent people, people his brother had been like not too long ago, didn’t sit well with him, neither did resurrecting ghost armies to do the bidding of time fascists, all so he could be with Dave. Dave would understand. Time fascists sucked _ ass_. “We’ve come to a decision,” the leader ghost said at last. “I’m not terribly keen on you, but the others are. We’re going to get you and Dave back to where you need to be.” 

“What, really?” Klaus asked, more than a little surprised. “My charm will burn itself out, don’t you worry.” 

“Is that the only part you heard?” 

“What’s your name? I’m Klaus.” 

“Catherine.” Klaus held out his hand, and Catherine hesitated a moment, before reaching out. By her shocked expression she expected her hand to go through his. He winked at her. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

* * *

It was almost like a date. Klaus hadn’t been on many dates, not really. The closest he’d come was getting dinner with a client or hookup, or going dancing or getting drinks or something like that. A little activity, a little hors d'oeuvre before they got to the main issue. That was what he imagined dates to be like, some sort of futile outing while putting off the inevitable. At least, digging through the Handler’s office for files on Dave’s rescue while his ghost strike force terrorized Commission HQ wasn’t futile. It was turning out to be quite productive, all things considered. And Maybe Dave was there, which was pretty cool. 

“So, I don’t know how much they told you,” Klaus chatted as he threw open another file cabinet. “But a lot has changed since we, uh, last saw each other.” Maybe Dave was helping, combing through the papers in the Handler’s desk. 

“I’m sure,” Maybe Dave said with a small smile on his lips. “You found your eyeliner, for starters.” Lifting his hand to his face, touching his eyes, Klaus couldn’t help but return that smile. 

“I’m also sober,” he continued, leaning on the filing cabinet while Maybe Dave emptied desk drawers onto the floor. “If, uh, if the whole ghost thing didn’t give it away.” Their roles switched, Klaus’s eyes falling to the floor as Maybe Dave’s head jerked up. 

“Klaus,” he choked. “Klaus I’m- I’m so proud.” All too quickly Maybe Dave was in his space, crowding close but not touching. Every cell in Klaus’s body was screaming at him to sink into Maybe Dave’s arms, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he was sure. 

Maybe Dave did what Dave would do, he kept his distance. Never did he push, never did he take. He was always just offering. 

“We should keep searching,” Klaus blurted, not daring to raise his eyes. Maybe Dave agreed and moved away. How easy would it be to just give in, give these people what they wanted, just so he could hold him. It wasn’t much different than drugs. He’d done plenty, and let people do plenty, for the sake of his next hit. 

After they’d gathered all Klaus felt they could safely take with them, he tucked the files up under one arm and with his other hand took Dave’s and led him out into the hallway. The ghost force was making good progress, beating and killing anyone who tried to stop them. Hardly anyone was interested in stopping them, most people they encountered were running away in fear. 

“Not really romantic,” Klaus admitted with a critical glance around. Dave shrugged. 

“We’ve got time to find somewhere more romantic,” he replied with a grin. “Do you know how we’re going to get out of here?” 

“Oh, yeah, ghost force is grabbing us a ride out,” Klaus replied. “Magical briefcase is our ticket out. You remember, the one I rode in on?” 

“Not really. I was… distracted.” Dave squeezed his hand and Klaus squeezed back. 

“I don’t really know how it all works, but we should be able to get out of this time bubble and back home. I was thinking we should probably go back to 2019. My family might be worried about me.” Dave smiled at him. 

“Just like we always talked about. Well, I mean, as I recall there was a cabin involved and substantially less family but you know. 2019.” Klaus looked around, wondering where his ghost force had gone to. The plan was to raid a ton of briefcases and meet outside, then zap on back to the future. Or past. Whatever. One of the ghosts had to know how to work the things to get back to 2019. Until then, Klaus and Maybe Dave got to hold hands and follow at a safe distance through the building, and talk. “You’re looking good,” Maybe Dave told him with a quiet, almost shy smile. 

“Not being in a warzone does wonders for the complexion,” Klaus told him. “You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you. There was… a lot of blood.” Maybe Dave bit his lip and looked away, as if he was guilty he’d gone and died. 

“I should’ve listened to you,” he said quietly. “You said we should jump ship, take your ride back to the future. And I was going to, but…” Maybe Dave didn’t have to convince Klaus of it. Klaus had stayed himself, he knew the pull. He knew what it was like to have a team depend on you, to have enough close calls to convince you that maybe you could make a difference. 

“I mean, the people I love the most are always the ones wanting to stick it out,” Klaus told him. “Ben was the same way.” 

“Ben,” Maybe Dave repeated, the way he might have added “amen” to the end of a prayer. It really was a shame people didn’t listen to Klaus more often, he thought. At the Academy he’d been begging Ben to run away with him for _ years_, before the occasional near death experience matured into a full blown case of dead. All those nights of pleading, in whispers in case they were caught, pleading with him to just get over himself, pack a bag, and never look back. But like Dave, Ben had been too wrapped up in a sense of duty. And look where that got both of them. “Did you find him?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You were looking for him, before. Back in ‘Nam.” The gentle concern in Maybe Dave’s eyes was too much, Klaus let go of his hand and looked away. 

“Yup. The second I got back to 2019.” 

“So you went back.” 

“Yup.” This whole day (night?) had been a lot to deal with, and Klaus was reaching the end of his rope. “We should be getting out of here,” he said a touch too hastily. “Get back somewhere safe. Then we can sort this whole thing out, ok?” Dave gave him a shaky smile. 

“Ok. Can I kiss you?” Klaus shook his head. Dave looked heartbroken. “Ok.” 

“Dude you died,” Klaus whined. “Forgive me if I’m a little… uh… paranoid about this whole thing.” Dave nodded, swallowing thickly. 

“I get it.” Usually people said that to Klaus in clipped, angry tones. Maybe Dave, just like Actually Dave, had more patience than sense and said it with as much reassurance as he could muster. Idiot. Absolute idiot. They had come to a standstill just before the marble staircase, and in desperation to get out of where he’d put them Klaus looked around for a topic. 

“I broke my jaw running down stairs like these in heels,” he blabbered. 

“Oh no,” Maybe Dave frowned. “Do you want a hand down?” Like some sort of prince charming Maybe Dave held out his arm, and Klaus was weak and tender and wanted nothing but him so he took it. 

* * *

“Ben is here! Ben is here! Oh come on, louder!” If Issadora was the sort of person to know what a pot was, she would be beating them together fervently. She’d rallied the ghosts into stomping around the great room, shouting at the top of their lungs. Zoya was speaking Russian, and Eyeballs was squirting blood everywhere, but they were doing their best. 

Without Klaus, the team really was a bit of a disaster. 

“Look, it’s not like last time,” Diego reasoned. “He’s got his powers now. He can like, summon Ben and get out of there no problem, right?” 

“Not if they drugged him,” Five told him reasonably, if not a little callously. 

“What’s strange is that we haven’t been contacted. If he’s a bargaining chip, they haven’t exactly made their demands known,” Luther said. He and Diego were the only siblings still standing, Luther stood straight backed with arms folded over his chest as Diego paced anxiously. Vanya remained seated at the center of one of the couches, with Allison and Five on either side. All around them the ghosts paraded, trying to connect. 

Overall, it was laughably pathetic. Ben would’ve said so, too, because that was the sort of thing that made Klaus laugh, but there was no Klaus, only siblings that couldn’t hear him and ghosts that wouldn’t listen. 

“So, so so so so so what?” Diego growled, “we just sit here and wait for some ransom note to come through? Is that what you want to do?” 

“Well I don’t see what we can do,” Allison pointed out. “We can scope out the motel the last kidnappers were in, but that probably won’t lead anywhere.” 

“The Commission knows where to find me,” Five told them, sensibly. “If they want something from me, they can find me.” 

“So why haven’t they?” Allison asked. The answer to that question hung in heavy silence between them. Or, it was heavy silence for them. Ben still had to contend with the parade of ghosts so things tended to take on a slightly sad, slightly amusing hue. Honestly Klaus made so much more sense now Ben could see the ghosts he’d been seeing all his life, how he never seemed to be fully entrenched in any moment, never quite sad with the rest of them, never quite serious, never quiet. 

“It’s possible,” Five said at last, “that their intentions are different than what I hypothesized.” 

“Fuck off,” Ben groaned, not sure who he was talking to. Not that anyone would listen to him. Thankfully, Ben didn’t have to watch the ghosts and his siblings go round in helpless circles for any longer. In a flash of blue light and a zapping sound Klaus, a stranger, and about twenty leather briefcases fell through the air and dropped with a painful sounding thud on the floor at the center of the great room. 

“Christ on a _ cracker_,” Klaus groaned from under his pile of briefcases, “time travel sucks _ ass_.” Diego was the first over to them, pushing the briefcases and strange man alike aside as he hauled Klaus up and to his feet. 

“Where the fuck did you get these?” he demanded as Klaus swayed dangerously. True Diego fashion, grabbing Klaus by the shoulders and yelling at him. 

“Stole ‘em,” Klaus told him helpfully. “Also stole him,” he added, with a jerk of his head toward the stranger, who was making his own way up from where Diego had shoved him aside. 

“Where have you been?” Luther asked, not as angry as Diego but certainly sounding stern. 

“At a job interview,” Klaus answered, wriggling free of Diego’s hold and bobbing over to Five. Five wasn’t looking at him, he had his eyes trained on the enormous pile of time travel briefcases, but eventually he looked up. “Ok favorite big little brother, we gotta have a chat. Like right now.” Five got up from the couch, hesitantly, still looking at the briefcases. 

“About what?” Allison asked. “And what do you mean a job interview?” 

“Five, like, right now? Please?” Klaus was growing a little more aggravated, running a nervous hand through his hair. Five didn’t say anything, just grabbed Klaus’s wrist and ported out of the great room. 

The ghosts had all stopped their chanting, because there were ten new ghosts to annoy. 

* * *

Dad’s office was a weird choice, but it sure was private. Klaus paced back and forth as Five battered him with questions. He knew his brother. Eventually the questions would run out and he’d get a chance to speak. Since none of the questions were actually important, like _ oh Klaus are you ok? Was it scary being kidnapped again? Did you like the Handler’s outfit? _ all he had to do was wait him out. At least he still had his bag of gummy worms. As he reached for his pocket Five abruptly stopped talking, so he stopped his pacing and looked up. Five was seated on the desk, legs crossed, face an unreadable mask. 

“I asked you a question,” he prompted. 

“I wasn’t listening,” Klaus told him without an ounce of shame. “Is this the part where I get to talk?” Five pursed his lips. 

“Klaus, this is _ serious_,” he spat out. “I need you to focus, and listen to what I’m saying.” 

“I will,” Klaus said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I will, and you can have all your answers and all my attention and every little crumb of knowledge I have if you can just answer me _ one _ little question.” Five’s eyes narrowed and he didn’t respond. “I’ve never asked you for anything, you know, so consider this a favor for you ol’ bro, huh? I mean come to think of it you still owe me twenty bucks, so consider this repaying a debt.” 

“What is it, Klaus?” Klaus gulped and licked his lips, choosing to focus on his trembling hands than his brother’s intense gaze. 

“I need you to tell me if that man is Dave or not.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so so much for reading!! <3


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